


Vital

by TheAsexualScorpio



Series: Cat's Cafe [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/M, Mild Blood, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualScorpio/pseuds/TheAsexualScorpio
Summary: A month after the events of "Cat's Cafe," Jon is ready to return to his work in the sheriff's department. Sansa wants to make absolutely sure.





	Vital

“You’re so clingy,” Jon drawled. “I love it.”

Sansa bristled. “Excuse me for wanting to be a responsible maker!”

“I have to go back to work some time, Sansa. And to my house.”

It had been a month since that night at Cat’s Cafe, when Sansa had apparently… _turned_ him. She had barely let him out of her sight since, even going so far as to bring him to work with her every night. If he had to spend another eight hours in absolute silence staring at the bland artwork on the cafe walls, he was going to lose it. It had taken ages to convince Sheriff Mormont to let him come back to work early, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize it with something as silly as being late.

“At least feed first! Here.”

Jon flinched automatically when she jabbed her hand in his face and then relaxed with an exasperated sigh. “I fed right after the sun went down.”

He absolutely _wasn’t_ whining.

“And you’re going into an environment where you could be exposed to fresh blood at any time,” Sansa insisted, moving her hand back and forth in front of his face. “You don’t have the level of control I do, so making sure you’re full is the next best thing. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Dammit.” She was right. Worse, she knew it, which is why she used that argument almost every time he tried to disagree with her. He told her so and then added: “Eventually that’s going to lose its meaning.”

“But not today. Now, come on. Before we’re both late for work.”

Jon let out another exasperated groan. Feeding like this was so _uncomfortable_. He took hold of Sansa’s wrist and bent her arm back a bit so the veins in her inner wrist were exposed. Opening his mouth as wide as possible—he didn’t want to prick himself _again_ —he willed his fangs to slowly descend, and then latched onto Sansa’s wrist. She gasped when his fangs punctured her skin, the way she always did when he fed from her like this, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see color rising in her cheeks.

She was never more beautiful than when he fed from her. Her skin became flushed and glowing, and her eyes honest-to-gods _sparkled_ , bright and feverish. Jon swore even her hair seemed to shine brighter when they did this. She looked so _vital_ , like there was so much life and power inside her that she could barely contain it—and that it was spilling into him. Life itself was running in rivulets down his throat, warming him from the inside out and glowing like starlight beneath his skin.

The blood stopped flowing freely after a few seconds, so Jon pursed his mouth over Sansa’s wrist and sucked, ignoring the noise Sansa made low in her throat. He kept it at a long, slow draw, so the blood came in a steady stream, and when it started to peter out, he flicked his tongue over Sansa’s skin. This time, he wasn’t able to ignore the muffled whine she made, and his cock twitched. He huffed and continued to feed. A few moments later, he was done, and he pulled away from Sansa’s wrist with a last, lingering lick.

Once he let go of her, he felt color beginning to rise to his own cheeks. Now that they were no longer connected, Sansa’s otherworldly glow was gone. She was still very pretty, but she was no longer the center of the world. And he was no longer a vessel for the life that threatened to spill out of her. Instead, he was just a creepy parasite with a hard-on. _This_ was why he didn’t enjoy feeding from Sansa.

He stepped away and shifted from one foot to another, trying to discreetly adjust himself. He still couldn’t understand how this could even be a problem. He was technically dead, wasn’t he? How could someone dead—or _un_ dead—get an erection? He had yet to figure out the answer, and he didn’t know how to find out when his only source of information was the one _giving_ him erections. He bit back another exasperated sigh.

“I knew you were hungrier than you said you were,” Sansa said. There was a raspy edge to her voice that made Jon look up, and he immediately regretted it. She was watching him with heavy lidded eyes. Usually when a woman looked at him like that he got laid afterwards. His cock twitched again at the thought.

“I’ll have to go hunting,” Sansa finished.

That provided a fine distraction from his unwelcome arousal.

The idea of drinking blood, of killing people, had repulsed Jon when Sansa had first told him what he was. It became easier to bear, however, when he learned that Sansa had a system. She fed often on fairly small amounts of blood taken from multiple targets. Inexplicable deaths drew a lot of unwanted attention, especially in this day and age, she explained. The idea of drinking blood became much more palatable—as palatable as drinking blood could be anyway–after that. A part of Jon also hoped that he wouldn’t react to a random person the same way he reacted to Sansa when he was feeding.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

She smirked. “You still need to work on your control. You also need to go to work.”


End file.
